


It Happened One Night At MedCon

by CaptainAFAB



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Best Majors, First Meetings, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Light-Hearted, M/M, Misunderstandings, Unreliable Narrator, everyone knows hawkeye is bi, hawnk, lavender marriage, life is better without homophobia, margaret houlihan is a good bro, please let henry blake go fishing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28006797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAFAB/pseuds/CaptainAFAB
Summary: Henry has to figure out why his surgeons won't play nice.Or, why do Frank and Hawkeyereallyhate each other?
Relationships: Frank Burns & Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan, Frank Burns/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	It Happened One Night At MedCon

**Author's Note:**

> there’s no homophobia at the 4077th because I said so<3  
> for some reason, this is from henry's pov. don't ask why. I don't know either.
> 
> fun fact of the day: according to wikipedia, a lavender marriage is a male-female mixed marriage, undertaken as a marriage of convenience to conceal the socially stigmatized sexual orientation of one or both partners.
> 
> many thanks to [peaches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holograms/pseuds/holograms) for always being there to throw ideas at me until one of them sticks.
> 
> love you all,  
> please enjoy ~

Henry is on his hands and knees under his desk, searching for his lost pen cap, when someone runs into his office. 

A panicked voice asks, “Sir, may I have two weeks furlough?”

Startled, Henry smacks the back of his head against the desk’s edge as he rises from his crouch. He sits back on his knees, removing his hat to rub at the pain.

“Whatever for, Burns?” Henry really doesn’t get paid enough for this. He gets up and sits back in his chair, waiting for the pitch. It better be good.

“Well, for all my hard work? Surely I deserve one?” The Major speaks quickly, eyes pleading, begging Henry to say yes. He’s panting somewhat, still out of breath from his run from God-knows-where.

“Well, gee, don’t we all?” Henry puts his hat back on. “You think if I had the ability to just _hand out_ a two week furlough willy-nilly I’d waste it on _you_?”

“But, Sir—” he whines.

“Frank, you know I can’t. We’re down a man until that new surgeon gets here. McIntyre’s next in line for a break, anyway,” Henry says, waving him off. “Try again in a month or so and maybe I’ll have Radar write you a two day pass.” He pulls a stack of papers off his inbox pile and fiddles with them, hoping Burns will go away.

“A transfer then!”

“A what?”

“A transfer.”

Henry looks up at him. He regards Burns seriously for the first time since his office was invaded by the Major’s simpering requests. “Where?” he asks, eyes narrowing. 

“I don’t know, Tokyo? Seoul?” His eyes dart to the window. “The 8063rd? I’m sure they have someone who wouldn’t mind swapping places…”

“Why?” he asks. Something’s certainly got him spooked.

“I’d rather”—Burns looks at Henry, gulps, then back to the window—“not say.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Aw geez, Frank, what is it? Is Major Houlihan being mean to you again?”

“What—no!” Burns can’t seem to pull his gaze from the window. 

“Well, what is it then? I don’t have all day to play guessing games with you.” 

Where is that new surgeon, anyway? He should ask… 

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” Radar says, appearing at his side, as if from thin air.

Henry clutches his chest, startled for the second time today. And it’s only nine-thirty. 

“Good _God_ , Radar, don’t do that. When did you get here, anyway—?” ( _“The new Captain just pulled in, sir.”_ ) Henry nods. Good, now he has an excuse to leave this conversation with Burns. 

“Terrific. Have him come to my office right away—” ( _“He’s on his way to your office now, sir.”_ ) “—so I can meet him and have someone show him the camp—” ( _“I’ll arrange a tour of the camp for him.”_ ) “If you’ll excuse us, Major,” he says pointedly at Burns, who turns and flees without another word. 

Henry rubs his temples. “All this nonsense is giving me a tension headache—” ( _“Would you like an aspirin, sir?”_ ) “Yes. Thank you, Radar.”

* * *

“Now, c’mon guys,” Henry pleads over their bickering, “you are officers in the United States Army. Why do you insist on acting like children?”

“He started it!” Burns says quickly.

“Nuh-uh!” Pierce counters eloquently. 

“Quit it!” 

They both look at him. Hawkeye is lounging atop the short filing cabinet to Henry’s right, one leg raised so he can rest his elbow on his knee. Frank is standing at attention in the center of the room. Well, now they’re listening, at least. He puts on his best scolding-father voice. “Hawkeye, this is the third time in as many weeks that I’ve gotten a formal complaint about your behavior. It’s getting out of hand. Now, sooner or later, Margaret’s going to go over my head and get something actually _done_ about it. That is not going to look good for _any_ of us.” 

They both look at the floor, accepting their chastisement. Henry feels emboldened enough by their respect to call them out directly. “Burns, I don’t know what happened between the two of you but you need to sort it out _now._ You’re being reckless in OR and that is unacceptable. You’re going to get somebody killed.” 

Hawkeye sneers at Frank and opens his mouth to say something but Henry cuts him off, “As for you, Pierce, I cannot allow my chief surgeon to go around _punching_ his superior officer! What the hell were you thinking?”

“I told you, he _slipped_.” Pierce says, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence. 

“That may be what the official report says but you and I both know it’s bologna,” Henry says. “I have tried—” he takes a deep breath, starts again, “I have tried to get you two to work this out on your own but you won’t do it. Hawkeye, you _constantly_ antagonize Frank—”

“But he’s so _antagonizable_ —”

“I wasn’t finished, Pierce.”

Hawkeye shuts his mouth.

Henry continues, “Filling his boots with oatmeal is not the funny prank you _think_ it is when _I’m_ the one who has to talk Major Houlihan down from getting a Brigadier General involved!” 

“I thought she already was _involved with the General,_ ” Hawkeye teases.

Frank lets out an offended gasp. “Sir! You cannot allow him to speak about Maj—” 

“Can it, Burns.” Henry would like, just once, to have a normal day filled with normal problems like wounded soldiers—not bickering surgeons. He leans forward in his chair, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He thinks of a placid pond filled with largemouth bass.

“Since you clearly can’t be trusted to work out your problems like _adults_ , I will play mediator.” Henry spreads his hands. “The two of you can have it out, right here. Once and for all.”

Frank and Hawkeye glare at each other, clearly not pleased with the idea. 

“That wasn’t a suggestion, boys. Sit.” He points at the two chairs in front of his desk.

Hawkeye rolls his eyes, pulling his body dramatically off the filing cabinet and flopping down heavily. Frank keeps his chin up, walks stiffly to the open chair and takes the seat to his right.

“Great. Now that we’re all _here…_ ” Henry expects Hawkeye to start. He always has so much to say. When a few moments pass in silence, Henry prompts, “Please, tell me why can’t we all just be buddies?”

“Oh, come _on_ , Henry. You’ve met Frank, haven’t you? He is the most insufferable, ferret-faced _fink—_ ”

“Objection!” Frank whines. 

“This isn’t court, Burns.” Henry sighs and mutters, “Not yet, anyway.” Deep breaths. _Tranquil water._ _Largemouth bass._ “Look, Hawkeye, we all know Frank can be… difficult. But that doesn’t explain why you _attacked_ him before he’d even said one word to you! Now, why don’t you just tell me what the problem is between you two?”

Hawkeye smiles. “Problem? What problem?”

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve hated Frank from the moment you pulled up to my camp… now’s your chance to tell me why.”

“Hate’s a very strong word, Henry. I prefer _loathe._ ”

Henry gestures for him to go on but he does not oblige. Henry lets out a long breath. _Largemouth. Bass._ “Frank? Why don’t you start.”

“I’ve already detailed my complaints and submitted—”

“Okay, the truth clearly isn’t going to come out with the both of you sitting here. Burns, go get some coffee. I’ll have Radar come get you when I’m ready.”

* * *

_The first time Hawkeye Pierce met Frank Burns was at a medical convention in Boston, 1949._

_Hawkeye is standing in the corner of the hotel lounge when he notices a (rather stacked, if he’s being honest) man drinking alone at the bar. He watches him for a while, picking up on certain mannerisms, the way he holds himself, how he giggles at the man serving drinks behind the bar. He could be wrong, but he rarely is. Hawkeye decides to sidle up to the bar, lay on the moves, and see where the evening takes him. He orders a martini—“bone-dry”—and sits backwards on the barstool to the man’s left. He leans back, resting his elbows against the bar as he glances at the mostly-empty dance floor. His eyes travel down to where the man holds his glass in his left hand. No ring. Free game._

_“You from around here?” Hawkeye asks softly, doing his best to be mysterious and alluring._

_The man looks surprised, glances around as if looking for the person that was really intended for, then points at himself in question._

_Hawkeye stifles a small smile and nods._

_“Boston? No. I’m from Indiana. Are you? From around here, I mean?”_

_Hawkeye shakes his head. “You gonna be in town for the whole convention?”_

_“Uh, just tonight, actually…” He looks uncertain and shy. It’s kinda cute. “I have a flight back in the morning. I’m Frank, by the way.” He offers his hand for Hawkeye to shake. He takes it, feels Franks warm, sturdy grip._

_“So you have some time to kill…”_

_“I suppose so,” Frank grants._

_He leans in and whispers, “Wanna come up to my room and play a little doctor?”_

_It’s his go-to line. Admittedly, not very clever but he has a feeling it’ll work on this guy who is so clearly_ begging _for someone to pay attention to him._

_Frank looks dazed. “Wait,” he says, closing his eyes and shaking his head once, quickly. “What’s your name?”_

_He grins. “Just call me Hawkeye.”_

“Alright,” Henry interrupts, “I get the picture, you can skip ahead.”

_They are pressed against each other in the elevator on the way up to Hawkeye’s room. Frank’s leg slotted between—_

“A little further, Pierce!”

“What, and miss the hanky panky?”

Henry glares at him. 

“Alright, alright, fine. Be a bore. Your loss.”

_Hawkeye wakes up, alone in his queen sized hotel bed. The sun is already high in the sky, streaming brightly into his room. He remembered something about Frank needing to catch an early flight, so he must have left while Hawkeye was still sleeping. The hangover isn’t as bad as he was expecting and he feels mostly ready to start his day. He’ll grab some breakfast and then—_

“Oh, _come on,_ Pierce!” 

“What? I skipped ahead. We had a lovely evening and the next day I attended a scintillating lecture on the history of the suppository.”

“You had a _lovely evening_?”

“Perfectly pleasant.”

“Alright, I’ve had about enough out of you. Radar—!”( _“I’ve sent for Major Burns, sir.”_ ) “—tell Burns I’ll talk to him now.”

* * *

_The first time Frank Burns met Hawkeye Pierce was at a medical convention in Boston, 1949._

_Frank is sipping his second drink of the evening at the hotel bar when a tall young doctor with floppy black hair approaches. He orders a martini—“bone-dry”—and sits backwards on the barstool to Frank’s left. He leans back, resting his elbows against the bar as he watches the mostly-empty dance floor._

_“You from around here?” the man speaks softly, not looking directly at him._

_Frank looks around, glances over his shoulder. Was he talking to_ him _? Frank points at himself and raises his eyebrows. A peculiar expression crosses the man’s face and he nods. “Boston? No. I’m from Indiana. Are you?” Frank quickly adds, “From around here, I mean?”_

_He shakes his head. “You gonna be in town for the whole convention?”_

_“Uh, just tonight, actually…” Not knowing what else to say, he adds, “I have a flight back in the morning. I’m Frank, by the way.” Frank offers his hand out for the man to shake, which he does._

_“So you have some time to kill…”_

_“I suppose so,” Frank grants, not sure exactly what he was getting at._

“Well, go on. What happened after that?” Henry asks. 

“Well… we had a few drinks. Talked. Discussed… the conference. Surgical… technique and new procedures. Then I went to bed and in the morning I caught my flight—”

“You expect me to believe you got drunk in a hotel bar with Hawkeye Pierce and just… _had a nice chat_?”

Frank swallows. “Yes, sir. That’s what happened. Like I said, I had an early flight.”

Henry gives Burns one more chance to tell him willingly. “You’re _sure_ nothing else happened?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Henry sighs. “Well, unfortunately for both of us, I have it on good authority you did a whole lot more than _chat_.”

Frank sits in silence, mouth gaping open and closed like a fish. He is staring into the middle distance, not making eye contact.

“Got anything to say to that, Frank?” It’s really all too much to handle without a belt or two. He rises, goes to the liquor cabinet, and pours himself a brandy. He offers one to Frank who shakes his head no, still not speaking. “Really?” Henry asks. “I’d have thought you could use a drink too.”

“I don’t… do that… anymore,” Frank manages. “Margaret says I make… poor decisions when I drink.”

“Sounds like Margaret has a point.” Henry returns to his seat.

“He… told you? What we… did?” Frank looks confused.

“Well he’s not exactly shy. Look, if you two could work this out yourselves I wouldn’t have to get involved at all—Lord knows I’d prefer it that way! We all know Hawkeye likes to… play a little _backseat bingo_ … every now and then but he can usually still manage at least a _semi_ -professional relationship with his… _partners_ afterwards. Now, Hawkeye says you had your fun and everybody went home happy. I take it that’s not the case?”

Frank lets out a resigned little breath. “He… He kicked me out… after… after we had…” Frank looks panicked.  
  


“I understand,” Henry spares him from having to recount any further details. “Why did he do that?”

“That’s the thing—I don't know!” Frank whines. Are those tears in his eyes? Good grief. “Everything seemed to be going so well and then all of a sudden he got really mad and threw me out and he told me he’d punch me if he ever saw my face again,” he says in a rush.

“Uh-huh,” Henry mutters. This means he’s gonna have to talk to Hawkeye. Again. _Placid water. Bass._

“Radar!” he calls at the exact moment the Corporal strides through the door. “Sir, we just got word the aid station is sending two casualties on the next chopper. Said their jeep went over a landmine!” 

Henry is on his feet immediately. Is he happy that some poor kids got blasted? Of course not. Is he grateful for a reprieve from his reluctant investigation? Perhaps more so than he’d like to admit. 

* * *

“He’s a terrible surgeon!”

“Actually—suction—he wasn’t half bad until _you_ showed up,” Henry said. Frank was never the _best_ surgeon they had but he wasn’t terrible. His performance had only decreased since Pierce got stationed here. 

“What, I’m so good he just looks bad by comparison? Retraction. ”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m saying…” What _was_ he saying? “You’re awfully distracting. In OR. Everywhere. Frank really doesn’t do well with all the noise _—_ suture scissors—and believe it or not, before you came along, Trapper was a lot quieter. He didn’t bust out jokes or sing over open chest cavities—pickups. You’ve had quite the influence here, Hawkeye.” He makes eye contact with Pierce over their patients. “Don’t underestimate that.”

“Oh, so now _I’m_ to blame for him nearly killing his last patient? Metzenbaum. The guy only had one kidney! Frank was gonna—”

“Look, I’m not saying it’s your fault I’m just saying you haven’t made it any easier for him.”

Hawkeye looks like he wants to retort but he doesn’t. He just works in silence for the rest of the session. They scrub out together in silence too. Afterward, he follows Henry back to his quarters. 

They sit, facing each other, at the little table in the corner of his tent. Henry pours them both some twelve year old scotch. 

“What’s the occasion?”

“You,” Henry replies. “You’re finally going to tell me what’s really going on between you two.”

Hawkeye feigns scandalization. “How dare you, Henry? You think just because you get me drunk you’re _entitled_?”

“Frankly, Hawkeye? I don’t care. I don’t even want to know.” He takes a long drink. “I’m tired. I just want to get through _one day_ without you and Burns at each other's throats and Margaret breathing down my neck about it. If you can manage that, I’ll drop the whole thing. Could you do that? For me?”

Hawkeye lets out a long sigh. “Alright, Henry. You win.”

“You’ll play nice?” Henry asks, dubious.

“I’ll tell you what really happened.”

_Frank is dozing in bed next to him. Hawkeye admires his form: strong and lean… those_ shoulders… _He had been pleasantly surprised by Frank’s… ability that evening. He was thorough and just rough enough to be fun and he really knew how to treat a man. And round two hadn’t been too shabby either. It’s a real shame he’s from out of town. Hawkeye wouldn’t mind meeting up with him again sometime._

_An idea occurs to him so he gets up and sits at the little desk in the corner. He grabs a pen and jots his number down on the little hotel pad of paper. He folds it in half and walks to the foot of the bed to pick up Frank’s pair of gray slacks. He’s just going to slip the note in the pocket when he feels a little weight there. Unable to help his curiosity, he reaches in and pulls out… a gold wedding band._

_That lying, cheating bastard._

_How dare that married piece of shit not disclose—? No. Hawkeye Pierce does_ not _fuck married people. He’s not the kind of person who lets himself be the Other Man in someone else’s marriage. Despite what people may think, he’s no hussy. He has morals, damnit._

_He puts the ring back in the pocket, crumples the note in his fist, and throws the pants at Frank in barely contained rage. Frank wakes with a start, pulling the pants off his face and looking around the dark room in a panic._

_“Put on your clothes and go.”_

_“Wh—?”_

_Hawkeye tosses the rest of his clothes at him. Frank just lets himself be pelted with them, sitting up in bed with his underwear sliding down his head._

_“Did I do something—?”_

_“Oh, you knew exactly what you were doing.”_

_Frank looks at him with a face full of guilt and shame._

_“That’s what I thought,” Hawkeye says. “Get out.”_

* * *

“I hate to be obvious but have you tried, gee I don’t know, _talking_ to him about it?”

Hawkeye clenches his jaw. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”

Henry is almost ready to beg, at this point. “Are you going to make me force you two to talk again? I’d _really_ appreciate it if you handled this yourselves.” 

“Is that an order, Colonel?”

“Does it have to be, Captain?”

They stare each other down. Henry is really hoping Pierce will just relent because he’s never been one to blink second.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to find out who blinks first because there is a knock at the door. Before he can even ask who it is, Margaret Houlihan busts into the room, dragging Burns along with her. 

“Sir, with all due respect,” she says, “you told me you would handle this. Frank is very upset.” 

Burns is standing behind her, looking sullenly at the floor.

“Is that so, Burns?” Henry asks, addressing Frank.

“It is,” Margaret answers. “He has been harassed by Captain Pierce for the last time. Now, either you sort this out or I _will_ go above your head and see that it is dealt with properly.”

“Since you’re so keen to get the brass involved, Frank, why don’t you share with the room the real reason this all started.”

“This all started because Pierce sobered up—”

“Is your name Frank?” 

“No, sir,” Margaret says with dignity. “I am merely facilitating conversation for—”

“It’s okay, Margaret,” Frank finally breaks his silence and steps forward. “I can speak now,” he tells her softly. 

Margaret nods. “Just like we practiced,” she replies under her breath, ceding the room to him and standing back with her arms crossed. 

“Pierce,” Frank says stiffly, “I didn’t want to betray your confidence by telling the Colonel what… occurred. But now that he knows…” He takes a deep breath. 

Henry feels as though he should not be present for this conversation but he’s waist deep in it now. If only he’d remembered to wear his hip waders.

“I assumed,” Frank continues, “once the alcohol wore off you realized that you had made a mistake. And you didn’t want me to… spend the night because… Well, I thought maybe it was because you aren’t… _like me_ . But then I saw how you acted with… everyone… so I realized it's not that you _aren’t_ like me but that you _don’t..._ like me…” he trails off, then quickly adds, “Which is fine! Not many people do. But… I do need you to stop damaging my things. Breaking the glass on Mother’s picture frame was really just too far.”

Everyone’s gaze shifts to Hawkeye for his response.

Hawkeye takes a moment to process this, then says, “No. No, no, no, no. No. You’re _married_ . I saw your ring. You have a _wife_ and you didn’t tell me. You made me into some kind of _hussy_. I’m not that. I don’t do that.”

Everyone turns back to Frank, who looks confused. 

“Uh… Pierce… You do know my wife is a lesbian, right?”

Silence.

“Wait… she’s like Klinger?” Henry asks.

Margaret rolls her eyes. “That’s _Lebanese_ , Henry.”

“Oh…” Henry nods, pretending to understand. “Right.”

Margaret turns to Hawkeye and raises an eyebrow. “Well?” she prompts.

“You… What?” Hawkeye is clearly caught off guard by this news.

“We’re both… the way we are,” Frank says. “I’ve known her since grade school. She and her… _friend…_ wanted kids. I needed help paying for medical school… again. It’s all very straightforward.” 

Hawkeye is nodding. He doesn’t seem to be able to stop.

“She was actually encouraging me to go out and meet somebody. That’s why I wasn’t wearing my ring,” Frank explains.

“So you’re not…” Hawkeye trails off. “You mean you’re…”

“...Unattached?” Frank finishes. 

Hawkeye nods again. 

“Yeah,” Frank says.

“Oh,” Hawkeye says. “Uh… hey look, sorry about”—he gestures vaguely—“everything. I can, uh, pay for the picture frame. If you want.”

“That would be a start,” Margaret says authoritatively.

“Please tell me this means I can go back to ignoring what you do on your off time,” Henry says.

“Yes, sir,” Frank replies. 

Maybe he can give _himself_ a furlough on account of having to deal with all this. He wonders where he could go fishing in Tokyo. 

* * *

“You told me,” Henry starts, addressing the two surgeons in his office, “we were done with all this. You said you were going to act _nicely_ . So, _why_ did I get another complaint about your behavior this morning?”

Frank looks suitably abashed. Hawkeye, as usual, is smirking.

“I cannot stress this enough. _I do not care_ what you get up to. But I _can’t_ have you getting up to it in the supply tent where Sergeant Zale can find you!”

“So sorry, Henry,” Hawkeye says, amused. “We’ll make sure to be more careful next time.” He elbows Burns in the side. “Right, Frank?”

Frank sputters out, “Sorry, sir.”

“Dismissed!” Henry shoes them away. 

He’ll get that fishing trip one day. One day… 

**Author's Note:**

> full credit for the lesbian/lebanese joke goes to peaches, who is the best hawnk bro ever.  
> don't forget to comment if you liked it!
> 
> [come talk to me on tumblr <3](https://captainafab.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
